


False Reality

by milkteeth1



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Altered Mental States, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Delusions, Demons Are Assholes, Doctors & Physicians, Dream Set In The 40's, Fever Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magic Tricks, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Murder, Nurses, Paranoia, Restraints, Therapy, Time Skips, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkteeth1/pseuds/milkteeth1
Summary: Dr. Iplier starts working at Westview Institution as his new job. Over the coming weeks, he meets a few interesting characters, along with realizing that something is not quite right.TW: Implied Anorexia, Delusions, Blood, Gore, Cannibalism, Murder, Demons, Dereality*WAS TAKEN DOWN: NOW REUPLOADED (sorry about that)
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, The Host/Dr.Iplier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Everything Is Fine.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Docthor Week 2k19](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904051) by [Xpouii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xpouii/pseuds/Xpouii). 



> I impulsively took it down out of nowhere, but it's staying up this time! Please heed the trigger warnings. 
> 
> Just a PSA:  
> \- Bim is in restraints for a reason. The staff is under the impression that he a cannibalistic murderer who isn't afraid to hurt them.  
> \- Dark does not have DID. I would never write someone with DID unless it was canon, and even then I have no idea how it works, so it's not my place anyway.  
> \- It's not specified, but Jackie is a patient there as well, with anorexia.  
> \- Anti works there but is also still a patient for depression and suicidal ideation. They gave him a job since he didn't have a home to go back to.  
> \- Harold. B Darrensworth, Yancy, and Yan are mentioned, but not really written about.  
> 

When he entered the doors of the Westview Mental Institution, he didn’t expect to see a thin young man in scrubs, or a man hiding not so discreetly behind him, a large scar covering the front of his neck. 

“You must be Dr. Iplier, right?” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Jackie Reynolds. I’m overseeing your arrival,”   
  
“You can call me Edward,” he smiled, shaking his hand. “Whose that, behind you?”

“Oh. This is another orderly, Anti,” said Jackie, gesturing towards the man with the neck scar. “He’s a patient here as well, but he’s allowed to be on all floors and the grounds,”   
  
Edward shook hands with Anti, who was  _ very  _ intimidating, staring into his soul with heterochromatic eyes. They were incredibly vibrant; the blue one was icy, but the green one gave him a cat-like appearance. “Nice to meet you,”   
  
Anti didn’t say anything.    
  
Jackie smiled wearily. “He takes some getting used to, but he’s a real charmer once you get to know him,” 

The doctor nodded, taking his eyes off Anti. Jackie clapped his hands together. “I’d like to show you the patients and the other doctor you’ll be working with. Are you ready for a tour?”   
  
“Absolutely. Lead the way,” Edward said, following behind the man. Jackie led them down the hall and up a set of stairs, the stairway labeled “Long-Term Care Ward - PLEASE KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!” 

“This is the Long-Term Ward, as you can see by the sign. Everyone in here has free roam of the hospital and grounds,” Jackie spoke quietly, stopping at the top of the stairwell and looking down a hallway filled with doors. “The first few rooms are the rooms you have to be quiet with. One of our patients is blind and some are sensitive to sound. Anti, can you show him around?”   
  
Anti looked back at Jackie, who gave him an encouraging smile, gesturing to ‘go on’. He sunk into himself slightly, grabbing Edward’s sleeve and dragging him to the first door, taking the clipboard and handing it to him. 

“ _ Marvin. Admitted for delusions and use of witchcraft. Convinced he’s ‘cursed’ and has cat-like habits,”  _ Edward read aloud, peeking into the glass part of the door. Sure enough, a long-haired man was sitting on his bed, fiddling with a pair of faux cat ears on top of his head. He stepped away from the door, addressing Jackie.    
  
“You let him wear cat attire? Wouldn’t you want to steer him away from that behavior?” 

Jackie shrugged. “Anytime we try and take it away he breaks down. We’ve tried alternatives, like getting him a plush cat, but that doesn’t seem to work either,” 

He nodded, placing the clipboard back on the rack. He turned to the door across from Marvin’s, picking up that clipboard.    
  
_ “‘King Of the Squirrels’. Was the subject of unethical human experimentation, doesn’t know how to interact socially with others, and doesn’t know (a lot) of English. Unfit to be in social settings.”  _

Again, he peeked into the glass, spotting a young man sitting in the corner, playing with children’s toys, muttering to himself. He didn’t seem to have ears on the  _ side  _ of his head, but two, fluffy animal ears on  _ top  _ of his head, with a crown set in between them. A tail peeked out from the blanket he was covering himself in, his legs bent at an angle that made them look almost  _ broken _ .    
  
“Oh, God,” he muttered, turning to Anti this time. “He’s part animal? How is that possible?”    
  
Anti shrugged. Turning to Jackie, he also shrugged. “All we know is that he likes to play with children’s toys and really  _ likes  _ peanut butter. He also seems to attract an abundance of squirrels onto the property,” 

The rest were along the same lines; The Host, a blind man with supposed ‘Third Sight (though the book he was reading was  _ not  _ in braille, which was incredibly suspicious)’; Dark, a man who claims that he has two souls living in his head; Eric Derekson, a man who lost his entire family, his legs, and had an abusive childhood; and Harold B. Darronsworth, a paranoid man who believed in way too many conspiracies. 

“Most of these guys are your patients, but you’re sharing with Dr. Schneeplestien,” Jackie said as Edward and Anti walked back to him. “Down this hall and to the left are the offices, which is where you’ll do paperwork, and to the right are the individual rooms where you will do the therapy sessions,”    
  
He nodded, following Jackie back down the stairs, then down the next set, then another. The sign wasn’t on the wall this time but on the two large double doors next to an elevator.    
  
_ Juvenile Ward. No Sharp Objects Allowed.  _

Jackie pulled out a key and unlocked one of the double doors, letting them in before turning around and locking the door behind him. He turned to another male nurse, who was folding scrubs.    
  
“Is it group time yet? I have a new doc to show around and I’d like to introduce them all at once,”    
  
The nurse nodded, pointing down the hall, past the receptionist’s desk. “Room 3. Ends in about 20 minutes,”   
  
“Thank you, Jim,” Jackie said, walking down the hall to the large rooms. He peeked into room 3, opening the door all the way, revealing the group.    
  
“Jackie!” one of them shouted, getting up and hugging the man tightly. “I feel like I never get to see you! How have you been?”   
  
“Good, Wilford. Please let me go now,” he strained, and Wilford released him with a pat on his head. He turned to Edward, smiling widely, his pink mustache rising with his mouth.

“Well, hello! I’ve never seen you before! And you are?”   
  
“I’d like to introduce myself to all of you at once, if that’s alright,” Edward said, stepping into the room. Wilford took a seat next to another man, bouncing in his seat. A female orderly stepped out of the way for him to stand in front of the door.    
  
“Hello, everyone,” he said, waving. “I’m Doctor Edward Iplier, the new psychiatrist. It’s nice to meet you all,” 

They all stared at him, besides Wilford, who clapped. Jackie cleared his throat. “Why don’t you all stand up and introduce yourselves?”

They went in a line. Wilford was first, shaking his hand roughly as he spouted off about being a show host, leaving with a pat on the shoulder as Jackie gently reminded him that other people were in the room. Yancy, a young man dressed like a greaser, shyly introduced himself. A young lady by the name of Yan shook his hand delicately, not speaking, but smiling sweetly.  The last one was the scariest.    
  
Anti and Jackie helped a young man in a straight jacket stand up, walking him over to Edward. He had on a muzzle that covered his mouth, but he could tell that he was smiling widely underneath. 

“This is Bim,” Jackie said as Bim gave him a death glare behind his glasses. “You’ll be supervised when you talk to him,”   
  
He nodded, and the two of them sat Bim down. The female orderly thanked them and they all waved Dr. Iplier goodbye as he walked out of the room, following Jackie down the hall to the doctor’s offices.

“What’s with Bim? Why is he all guarded?”    
  
“ _ Bim _ ...Bim’s an odd one,” Jackie began as he navigated the halls easily. “He was found eating someone’s liver raw. When authorities raided his home, they found coolers  _ filled  _ with human organs. He apparently admitted to killing and eating about 30 people. He isn’t allowed to have his straight jacket off unless he’s showering or sleeping. The mouth guard stays on unless it’s mealtime,”   
  
He blinked, taking that information in as they stopped in front of an unmarked door. He had just stood in front of a cannibal. Who death glared at him. 

“Dr. Schneeplestien? The new doctor is here,” 

He came back into this world as they entered someone’s office. The doctor looked up from his paperwork, looking uninterested. “Oh, yes. Have you seen the patients yet?”

“I have,”    
  
“Alright then. Here’s a schedule of all the therapy sessions for today. I gave you the easy ones,” he said, holding up a paper. He took it, going to read it, but then he was handed another sheet. “This one is the schedule for the Long Term and Juvenile Wards,”   
  
He didn’t have time to nod before Jackie shook his hand with a smile.    
  
“Welcome aboard, Dr. Iplier!” 


	2. Things Are Getting a Bit Strange.

He sat down at his desk with a sigh, surveying the room. It was plain white, with a large desk (with drawers!), a bookshelf, and a room to the right (which turned out to be a bedroom with a small bathroom attached). He finally looked down at the two sheets of paper sitting on the desk’s surface.  
  
_Long Term/Juvenile Ward Schedule_

_Both wards are interconnected, as the patients are allowed to interact and free roam the wards (with the exception of Bim Trimmer). If you ever get lost, ask an orderly for directions._

_MON-SUN (please know that each patient varies, so the times will as well)_

  * _8:00 AM - Wake-Up Time_


  * 8:30 AM - Showers* 


  * 9:00 AM - Breakfast


  * 9:30 AM - Pills 


  * 9:45 AM - Free Roam 


  * 12:45 PM - Lunch 


  * 1:15 PM - Pills 


  * 1:30 PM - Nap Time (for certain patients)/Free Roam 


  * 3:00 PM - Group Therapy/Snack (if wanted)


  * 4:00 PM - 7:30 PM - Individual Therapy**


  * 8:00 PM - Dinner 


  * 8:45 PM - Back in Rooms 


  * 9:00 PM - Pills 


  * 9:30 PM - Lights Out! 



_*Showers are conducted by orderlys. Depending on the patient, psychiatrists may need to perform “harm checks'' to make sure a patient is not harming themselves._

_**Individual Therapy is shared between Dr. Scheeplestien and Dr.Iplier._

He flipped the paper over, which gave him a list of medications for each patient. He set it down, picking up the other one. 

_Therapy Sessions for the week of 2/8 - 2/14 for_ _Dr.Iplier_ __

**_2/8_ **

_\- “The Host” - 4:30 PM_

_\- Eric Derekson - 5:30 PM_

_\- Wilford Warfstache - 6:30 PM_

**_2/9_ **

_\- King - 4:00 PM_

_\- Marvin Walsh - 5:00 PM_

**_2/10_ **

_\- Bim Trimmer - 5:00 PM (Visit will be supervised by_ _ Jackie _ _)_

_*Please note that there are more patients on the wards and schedules are subject to change._

_Signed Off By_ _H.V.Schneeplestien_ _._

_Fuck._

If he was being honest with himself, that Bim dude scared the absolute _shit_ out of him. He didn’t want to go near him with a ten-foot pole. Maybe he could find Henrik again and take him off the schedule. But then he’d look like a wuss! 

A knock at his door startled him out of his thoughts. He scrambled to make himself look presentable, calling out a “Come in,”  
  
The Host, who turned out to be incredibly tall, opened the door, holding a piece of paper. He shut the door behind him, standing in front of the desk with a smile on his face. Unlike everyone else, he was wearing a long trench coat, with his scrubs underneath.  
  
“Hello, Doctor,” he said in a deep voice. “The Host saw you earlier. Are you settling in well?”  
  
“Yes, very well. Just setting up my room,” he said, looking at the bandages covering the man’s eyes. They were soaked with dried blood, bloody tears trailing down the man’s cheeks. “Do you need those bandages changed? I’d be happy to change them for you,”  
  
The Host stopped, his smile turning into a scared frown. “Um, no. He’s fine,”  
  
“There’s no need to be scared. If you don’t get them changed, whatever’s underneath will become infected. Believe me, I’ve seen my fair share of gore, it’s probably not as bad as you think, and you’ll feel much better after,”

The man shifted his weight, hesitant and scared, setting down the paper on the desk. “You mustn’t say anything. No words.” 

“Not even casual conversation?”  
  
“No.”

“Alright, then. Take a seat. I have some medical supplies in my bag,” he said, rooting around in his bag as The Host sat down anxiously on a nearby stool, bouncing his leg. He found some new gauze, cotton balls, gloves, and some rubbing alcohol. He put them in his lap as he scooted towards the Host, putting his gloves on before reaching for his bandages. 

The man’s hands suddenly grabbed his wrists, nearly scaring him to death. The Host was searching all around the room, looking absolutely terrified. “The Host requests you tell him what you’re going to do before you do it,”  
  
“I thought you said no words.”  
  
“He changed his mind.”

“Alright,” Edward said as The Host let go of his wrists. “I’m gonna take the bandages off. It may hurt for a second, seeing as the blood seems to have gotten stuck to your face,”

He reached up again, untying the bandages in the back and gently pulling them off. The Host grimaced as the coagulated blood came off his skin. He threw the bandage into a nearby trash can, turning to survey the damage.  
  
In front of him were completely empty eye sockets covered in scars. Nothing, besides his eyebrows, was left behind. No eyelids, lashes, or tear ducts, and most visibly, no _eyes._ Just an empty abyss. A million questions popped into his head, but he bit his tongue, soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol.  
  
“What am I cleaning here?” he asked. The Host was silent for a second, and Edward could tell that he was debating on getting up and leaving. But he stayed put.  
  
“The inside of the sockets.” 

“OK. I’m gonna go ahead and do that. Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said, gently reaching in with his hand and wiping off the coagulated blood on the bottom of the right socket. Clearly, no one had been cleaning these out. Whether the reason was because of the nurses not caring, or because The Host was scared, he knew that his job here was to make him the most comfortable he could with his hand in one of his eye sockets. 

Working as quickly as he could without messing up, he cleaned out the other socket, doing a quick check to make sure they were empty before cleaning off his cheeks and placing a new bandage over his wounds. The relief on The Host’s face made him smile. 

“See? I told you that you’d feel better. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, stripping away his gloves as the man got up, feeling the bandage with his hands, a happy smile on his face.  
  
“Thank you, Dr. Iplier,” he said, shaking his hand eagerly. “He was too scared to go to anyone else. He knew that he could trust you.”  
  
Edward laughed as The Host walked over to the door. “That’s my job! Please, come back whenever you need, or if you just want to talk. I’d love to get to know you more,”  
  
“Sure thing. He’s looking forward to our session tomorrow evening,” he said, opening the door and leaving. He smiled to himself as he sat down at his desk, noticing the paper that Host had left behind.  
  
He picked it up, turning it over. It was completely blank.  
  
Wait.  
  
How did he know his last name if he had never told him?


	3. What Time Is It?

His therapy sessions went surprisingly well. The Host was an absolute enigma, but a delight to talk to. He discovered that Host was an author, and got lent a few of his books to read in his spare time. His weird, ‘I-know-things-about-you-that-you-haven’t-told-me-about’ was a bit creepy, but oddly amusing. And every day, he came in to get his bandages changed, becoming less anxious each time. 

Eric was very quiet and shy, always holding onto a yellow handkerchief. When he asked about it, he broke into tears, revealing that his dead mother had given it to him before she had died. He got so worked up about it that he had to give him a sedative and end the session early. 

Wilford Warfstache...was a strange one. He talked and talked and Edward couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but he revealed some things; he’d been to war, he had killed a few people, but didn’t quite understand that they were  _ dead _ (“They just wouldn’t wake up, I’m telling you! Tickling people with a knife doesn’t  _ hurt  _ them,”), he had a crush on Dark (“Have you  _ seen  _ his hair? Gorgeous.”), and that he deeply cared for Yan, the shy young woman from earlier, almost like a daughter. 

King barely spoke any English and didn’t seem to understand a word that Edward was saying. He just stared at him with a confused look. He took it upon himself to start teaching him the alphabet and to teach him English for the first 30 minutes of each upcoming session. 

Marvin was also a strange one. He was absolutely  _ convinced  _ that he was part cat, and that he was cursed by Anti, the orderly with the neck scar. And yes, he was a witch, and when Edward asked him to go into more depth, he gave a happy little dance and started rambling about herbology. 

And then came Wednesday. 

Edward tried to distract himself with paperwork, but it was useless. A cannibal was coming into his office. Not alone, of course, but he wasn’t sure someone as thin as Jackie could take on a very strong-looking cannibal. 

(Speaking of Jackie, he’d have to make sure that he was  _ eating  _ enough because his thinness did  _ not  _ look natural. Maybe anorexia of some sort?)

Sure enough, at 5 PM, someone knocked sharply on the door. His hands shook as he walked over to open the door for Jackie, who looked like he didn’t want to be there. Bim was, again, smiling under his muzzle, the look in his eyes  _ hungry _ . 

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jackie muttered as he sat Bim down in the chair in front of his desk.    
  
“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to a chair by the door. He sat down, pulling out a book from his pocket and starting to read. Edward sat down himself, trying to look as un-terrified as he could.    
  
“Hello, Bim. How are you doing today?”   
  
“Good,” he called in a light voice. It sounded very normal, almost like he  _ wasn’t  _ a murderous cannibal. “You?”   
  
“Busy. Lots of paperwork,” he said, trying not to look at the clock. “Before we start, is there anything  _ you’d  _ like to talk about? A book you’ve read recently, an article in the newspaper, for example?”

A flash of recognition in his eyes. “Oh, actually, you just reminded me. I did read something in the newspaper the other day about a string of murders east of town. They don’t know who did it, but it definitely wasn’t human. All of them had their throats slit open,”   
  
His mind immediately was drawn to Anti, but he quickly threw the thought out of his head. “Really? Was there anything else in the article?”    
  
“Other than the people’s obituaries, no,” Bim shrugged. “Authorities are still trying to figure out what it was. Someone at lunch suggested demons, but those don’t exist,” 

“It depends on what you believe in,” 

Bim nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, if Hell exists, I know where I’m going,” 

He heard Jackie chuckle from his seat. Bim shot him a look but didn’t say anything. He looked around the room, making a face at the barren walls and empty bookshelves. 

“You still haven’t settled in? It’s been like...a week,” he said, wiggling a bit in his bindings. “I’d give you tips but I can’t exactly point.”   


Edward didn’t say anything at that. The other cleared his throat awkwardly. Jackie flipped a page in his book loudly.    
  
“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”    
  
Bim thought for a second, nodding. “Yeah. Is it alright if Jackie leaves?”   
  
Jackie looked up, staring at Bim coldly. “You know I can’t do that.”   
  
He scoffed mockingly. “What am I going to do? I’m in a muzzle and straight-jacket. It’s not like I can get out of it. And besides, you’re a stick, you can’t do anything,” 

“Fine.” the orderly spat, getting up and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Edward looked back at Bim with disdain.    
  
“You shouldn’t make fun of his weight,”   
  
“Oh, it’s  _ fine _ , don’t be a worry-wart. He’s a man. We don’t care about that type of stuff,” he said, uninterested. “Besides, he eats plenty. I see him eat with Henrik every day,”

“Who?”

“That Dr. Schneeplestien man. His name is Henrik. Saves you from saying the mouthful that’s his last name,” 

“Oh. I wasn’t aware of that. Thank you,” he said, writing it down on his notepad so he didn’t forget.    
  
“You’re welcome,” Bim said. It was silent as Edward wrote. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”   
  
He sighed. “I’m not as scary as you think. I  _ act  _ scary because it’s funny to see people get scared. But I’d never hurt anyone in this place. I like it here. I’ve made friends. And I’m sick of being in a straight jacket,”   
  
Edward crossed his arms on the desk, slightly amused. “You did kill, like, fifty people,”   
  
His eyes snapped up from the straight jacket, visibly angry. “No, I did  _ not _ ! Who told you that?”   
  
“An orderly.”

“Well,  _ fuck  _ them! They lied!” he shouted irritably but took a deep breath to calm himself down. “It was like, two. And I had to for the first one.”   
  
He studied him quizzically. “Two? That’s still a lot,”

“As I said, I had to. I got lost in the woods for a week. I came across a dead hiker, and well, you gotta eat to live,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “I fucking hated that I had to do it. It was disgusting.”   
  
He nodded, going to offer him a tissue, but stopped when he realized that he couldn’t use his hands. “But you said two. What was the other one?”   
  
He blinked, eyes distant, a tear falling down his cheek. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that’s where the rumor started. I got drunk and accidentally ran some poor woman over with my car. Her uh...organs...fell out...and I had to put them in a cooler to keep them cold…then I called the authorities…”

Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at his lap, listless. “I live with the guilt every day of both incidents. The first one was survival and the other one was a complete accident. But everyone thinks I’m some horrible cannibalistic murderer,”   


“Have you told this to Henrik?” 

“Yeah,” he sniffed, voice filled with emotion. “But I don’t think he believes me, otherwise I’d be out of this straight-jacket.”

He wrote that down as well. He’s a psychiatrist here. He can order things to be done. Of course,  _ Henrik  _ was the head of both wards (right? He hadn’t heard another name), so it would have to go through him, but he could probably convince him. He set the notepad aside, noticing the blank sheet that The Host had left behind. Only, there seemed to be words written on it. 

Edward grabbed it, reading over the one sentence.    
  
_ He’s telling the truth, you know. _   


His eyes widened at the paper.    
  
How in the  _ fuck  _ did Host do that? 


	4. Chapter 4

_ How did you get here?  _

_ Where are you from?  _

_ Does time even exist? _

_ You’ll wake up eventually, ~~love~~. _   



	5. Please

Bim returned to his room a little after Edward discovered the not-so-blank note. He put in a request to see Henrik alone in his office, but the nurse he talked to said that he was busy and probably wouldn’t get back to him for while. 

For the next few weeks (that honestly felt more like hours), he pondered over the note. The Host hadn’t mentioned it at all, but by the smirk on his face, Edward could tell that he knew about it. So, he went about his days, continuing his therapy sessions. 

Eric had  _ significantly  _ improved in the last month or so. He wasn’t stuttering as much, his panic attacks were down to once a week (if even  _ that _ ), and he was much more open about talking about his abusive dad, Derek, who had dumped him here once he had gotten his PTSD diagnosis. Edward was hopeful that within the next year, he would be able to leave, and became ingrained in everyday society. 

Wilford was still not opening up about his past, or the murders that he committed, but he  _ was  _ very open about his love of Dark. Edward still hadn’t gotten a chance to see him, but from what Wilford was saying, he seemed very charming and sweet. He was surprised at Wilford’s openness about their relationship, seeing as being homosexual wasn’t really “accepted”, but he didn’t care. 

King was learning more English every time he came into the office. He was now able to form coherent sentences, greet people, and was continuing to learn at a very fast pace. He talked about the experiments that were performed on him, and how he could understand the squirrel’s outside. He thought this was strange, but hey, the kid was part animal. 

Marvin, however, truly only seemed to be deteriorating. Apparently, he refused to take the ears off at all, and the only thing he could talk about was the “curse” Anti had placed on him. He was paranoid, and would barely speak above a whisper, for fear that Anti was listening. Edward tried to reassure him that he  _ wasn’t  _ by opening the door, but the orderly just so happened to be standing outside the door, fist raised to knock, a confused expression on his face. Marvin nearly attacked him, and when that failed, ran out of the room. 

Anti handed him a file. “This is from Henrik about Mr. Trimmer. He says it’s urgent. I’ll go get Marvin,”   
  
He thanked him as he took it from him, shutting the door. Distantly, he realized that this was the first time he had ever heard Anti speak, but he put the thought away for later. Edward sat down at his desk, opening the file, skimming through it. The first page was just admission information, but it was the second that got him interested.    
  
_ Police Report states that Mr. Trimmer ran over ████ ████████ ████ , who died in the accident. According to him, he was not sure what to do with her organs, so he put them in a cooler in his trunk and waited for authorities to take them.  _

The next section was highlighted. 

_ Mr. Trimmer also admitted to eating a dead corpse in the woods for survival purposes. When questioned, he began to cry, and continuously said that he didn’t want to.  _

_ Charges: Involuntary Manslaughter, Cannibalism  _

_ Sentence: 15 years of jail time.  _

A note was stuck to the paper, reading,  _ “How the fuck did you get him to admit it? Visit me ASAP”  _

So he did. He made his way down the stairs (and then again), past the group therapy rooms (where Wilford gave him a happy wave), and down the winding halls to Henrik’s office, where Bim Trimmer was sitting, Henrik in his chair, looking overjoyed.    
  
“You wanted to see me?” Edward said, sitting in the chair next to Bim. God, he felt like he was sitting in front of the principal in high school. Henrik smiled at him, hands under his chin.    
  
“I sure did. I wanted you both to hear the good news at the same time. After reading over the police reports and your recent reports on Bim, I have decided to let him out of the straight-jacket and muzzle,”   


Bim gasped in shock, looking at Edward, then back at Henrik. “You - what -  _ really _ !?”   


“Well, you haven’t really tried to hurt anyone while you’ve been here, and the police report tells me that you’ve been telling the truth the entire time,” the doctor said, shuffling some papers around. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I think I just needed some outside sources to get me to say yes. I wanted Edward to take the bindings off, since he solidified the claims,”   
  
He bounced in his seat as both of them stood up, his hands quickly untying the restraints and pulling the jacket off. Bim pulled off the muzzle with his hands, happy tears trailing down his face as he threw it to the ground. He threw his arms around Edward, sobbing into his shoulder.    
  
“Thank you, thank you! I feel so free! This is the best day of my life!” 

Henrik cleared his throat, face serious. “Now, if you do start acting aggressive, we will put you back in the jacket and muzzle. Do you understand?”   
  
Bim nodded fervently.    
  
“Good. Now, it’s lunchtime. Go tell everyone the good news,” Henrik said, waving Bim off. He nodded, running out of the room and down the hall with another “ _ Thank you!” _

“You too. Go eat some lunch,” 

Edward nodded, leaving the room with an accomplished smile on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write police reports.


	6. wake me up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👁👁 things are coming to a head

If he was being completely honest, he had never been in the cafeteria. Orderly’s or The Host would bring him his food and he’d eat in his office while he completed paperwork. In fact, he doesn’t remember ever seeing any part of the hospital that wasn’t his office, the Long-Term Ward, or the Juvenile Ward. Which is weird. He hadn’t even been outside yet. He’d have to do that later. 

It took him about 10 minutes to locate the cafeteria. It wasn’t  _ big,  _ but there was (what looked like) a full kitchen, and 20 tables, all sectioned by wards. Everyone (except for the Host) in both wards were sitting at the tables sectioned for them, eating what looked like….

What did it look like?

Where was he?   
  
“Hey! Doc! Come join us!” Wilford said, waving him over. He walked over, spotting Anti whispering something to Marvin, an evil smile on his face. When he noticed Edward, he pulled back, the smile fading into his normal staring into his soul. He sat down across from Wilford weakly.   
  
“Hello, Wilford. How have you been today?” he asked. Wilford beamed happily, tapping his fingers on the table. 

“Good! Good! Hey, have you met Dark yet? He’s that guy I’ve been talking about, you know, the real  _ charmer _ ,” he giggled, wiggling his eyebrows. He got up from his seat, pulling someone out of their chair and dragging them over to the table.    
  
The man was wearing the normal patient scrubs. Everything about him seemed normal. The hair on his head, his pale skin, his shoes.    
  
Except he didn’t have a face. 

What replaced it was a black void, an endless black hole. Wilford looked like he had just won the fucking lottery, a big, gleaming smile on his face.    
  
Edward toppled out of his seat in fear, scrambling to his feet and running away. Where was he going? Far away from whatever the  _ fuck  _ that man was. He got to a door, pulling on it, why the  _ fuck  _ won’t this thing open? He ran to the next door, the halls oddly empty, also fucking locked, and the window next to it was as well. Why was it white? Why was the outside white? Where  _ was  _ he?   
  
“Edward?” 

He whipped around. The Host was standing in front of him, eyebrows pushed up in worry. “Are you alright?”   
  
“Where was his face?”    
  
“Darks? Oh, it’s gone.” The Host said, smiling. “They couldn’t decide what form to take, so they just decided no form! Simple solution,”   
  
He panted. Why was it so hot? When did it get hot? “That’s not possible.”   
  
The Host laughed. If Edward wasn’t in such a weird position, he’d compliment it. “Sure it is. How do you think he wrote on the note without actually writing on it? Or knew such intricate details about you? Because he has a Third Eye.” 

He tapped the middle of his forehead, turning around and starting to walk away. “He thinks it would be a good idea for you to talk to Anti,”   
  
Edward shook his head. “No. He’s a killer.”

_ And how do you know that?  _ his mind taunted.  _ Do  _ you  _ have a Third Eye? _   


The Host stopped, turning his head slightly. “All demons are. They need human souls to live. That’s why all those people were killed east of town,”

He just stared at him as he walked away. He didn’t move from his spot for a long time, even after the patients went back to their rooms, even when Dark stopped and stared at him for a while. Time was slow. Time was fast. Time was nonexistent.    
  
He could never read the clocks in this place.

“Edward.” 

He looked up. Anti was there, looking just as harmless as he did earlier, arms crossed. 

“You’re dreaming.”   
  
No. He wasn’t. There was no way. He wasn’t dreaming. It felt too real. 

“Don’t doubt it. You’ll be stuck longer. Tell me, have you ever been able to read the time? Can you read that clock?”   
  
Anti’s finger pointed at a nearby clock. The numbers were mushed together, spinning in and out, the face of the clock melting down the wall. He slowly shook his head, looking back at the man.    
  
“You need to wake up.” 

“But...but you...you  _ killed  _ people…” 

Anti just stared at him. “I think that’s something you need to address with the  _ real  _ Anti, not me. Sounds like a fear you might have. I’m just a part of your brain’s imagination,” 

He shook his head some more. The walls were starting to crumble around them. “I don’t...understand..”   
  
The man only shrugged as the entire world fell apart, and he fell through the floor and into the unending darkness.    


  
  
He woke up with a scream.    
  
Was he dreaming? Was this real? Where the fuck was he? He barely even noticed the fact that someone was talking to him, or that a cool rag was being wiped across his face, or that he was  _ incredibly  _ sweaty. He slowly let himself be brought into the world, seeing the room.    
  
He knew this room. This was... _ his  _ room. Or, well, his  _ shared  _ room. The books on the shelves gave it away. And the trench coat on the closet door. And the black covers. He shared it with someone. 

Someone was speaking again. Right. The other person. He licked his lips, trying to recall, he  _ loved  _ this person, who was it?   


“Host?”

“Edward,” The Host said, a smile forming on his face as he set the rag down, blood trailing down his cheeks. “Oh, he was afraid you’d be stuck in that fever dream forever,”

Oh, God. Those words made him want to sob. “It was a dream?”   
  
“Of course. You have the flu,” he said, taking one of Edwards' hands. “That was certainly a scary one,”   
  
He let The Host trace patterns into his hands as he admired the band around his finger. “It felt so real,”   
  
“It did indeed look very real,” he agreed. “When he looked into your mind, the sight was incredibly vivid. He’s sure you were terrified when it turned out to be a dream,”

Edward looked around the room some more. The curtain on the window above their bed was thrown open just enough so that the moonlight illuminated the room, giving the shadows around the room a monster-like appearance.    
  
“I need to talk to Anti,”    
  
The Host looked up from his hand, frowning worriedly. “You should wait till morning. You need more rest,”   
  
“No. I want to talk to him now,” he said, throwing the covers off of himself, making The Host scramble to his feet. “Where is he?”   
  
“Edward, lay back down, you’re  _ sick _ -” he protested as Edward stumbled out of the room and down the hall, his husband rushing behind him with whispered pleas to get back into bed. He reached Dark’s room, throwing open the door and flipping on the light.   


Dark shot up, hair sticking up everywhere, another person jumping and falling out of their spot in another place in the room. He blinked, squinting at the doctor. “What are you doing?”   
  
“Where’s Anti?” he demanded as The Host tried to pull him back by his arm.

Dark looked around, pointing at the couch in front of the window. “Uh. Over there. Why?”

Anti stood up, grabbing the blanket off of the ground, looking up. His eyes reflected off of the light. “You alright, dude? You look super sweaty,”   
  
He pointed at him, hand shaking. “You were in my dream.”   
  
“I was?”   
  
“You  _ killed  _ people in my dream,”

He chuckled slightly. “Yeah, man. I think you need to go back to bed,”    
  
“Edward, you live in a house  _ full  _ of murderers, what’s the issue?” Dark said, getting out of bed and grabbing his arm. “C’mon, you don’t look good. Go back to bed,”    
  
“No! I want to know if he’s actually killed anyone!” he shouted, thrashing against his grip. Anti wrapped himself with the blanket, walking towards him with a confused look.    
  
“It’s common knowledge that demons feed off of human souls and blood. I’ve been alive for about 150 years. Of course, I’ve had to kill people. Does that answer your  _ burning  _ question?” 

He stared at him. The Host was whispering to Dark, apologizing for waking him up at such a late hour. He distantly heard other doors start to open, the other housemates muttering to each other.    
  
So he nodded.    
  
“Good. Now, go back to bed. Away with you,” he said, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down on it. “Seriously, dude. You look like you’re about to keel over and die,”    
  
Dark took his arm, he and The Host leading him back down the hallway, back into the room, and onto the bed. The Host and Dark spoke for a second before his husband shut the door, turning to him. He didn’t say anything, just got back in bed, laying down. 

  
“He loves you, but if you ever do that again, he’s gonna hit you with a broom,” he said as Edward finally laid down, getting comfortable. He smiled at his empty (?) threat.    
  
“Please don’t let me have another fever dream,” he muttered as he got under the covers, laying his burning head on The Host’s shoulder. He kissed his hair, running his hand through it.    
  
“Of course. Now  _ go back to sleep _ ,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely loved how this turned out and I hope you did too! Please leave kudos and comments if you'd like! My tumblr blog is rat-bat if you wanna send me asks about it 👀
> 
> Just to clarify: 
> 
> In the story, they claim to have two souls living in their head, which is true. He does have two souls in their head. This is why they take on a "no-face" form because he can't decide who to present as (Celine or Damien).


End file.
